


Too Quickly And All Of A Sudden

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hand Jobs, Language, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Widow Ron, Widowed, bicurious!Ron, contractual marriage for mutual benefit, unrequited teenaged love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-23 14:24:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9661217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: But there's a ring stuffed in my pants drawer and I live in his ruddy Manor, I'm not alone any more and my girls are smiling again.  That's all that matters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Warnings or Content** : Angst, Mentioned Past Character Death (Widow!Ron), hand-jobs and oral sex, contractual marriage for mutual benefit, bicurious!Ron, unrequited teenaged love, language.  
>  **Disclaimer** : Not mine. Oh, how I wish.  
>  **Notes** : I don't normally write this pairing, but I'm an idiot and I like to challenge myself. I hope this isn't too terrible. Thanks to S for the beta.

I have no idea how I ended up here. How I came to be sharing a house with _him_. How my daughters came to love him. How I ended up alone, after everything, raising those daughters single-handedly until he came along with the most ridiculous suggestion in the world.

He needed a pure-blood to marry or lose the Malfoy estate, his hand forced by some mental old magic written into the deeds of the Manor and the locks on the bank vaults. About right for what I know of Malfoys past. Plus there's Black blood in him too, and they were completely off their rockers.

Just like me, I suppose. Because I must have been completely fucking insane to agree to this. To marry _him_.

But there's a ring stuffed in my pants drawer and I live in his ruddy Manor, I'm not alone any more and my girls are smiling again. That's all that matters.

* * *

Ron scrubbed his fingers over his face and held his breath.

At last, everything was silent. Since dinner he'd had to fend off a five-year-old twin bundle, a toddler's missing blanket meltdown, a slight vomiting issue induced by the meltdown and one of those evenings where nobody, _nobody_ wanted to go to bed. Except him. He _always_ wanted to go to bed.

Truth be told, if it wasn't for his girls, Ron knew he wouldn't get up at all.

He certainly had no job to get up for - that had been lost when Hermione had died, taking his happy life with her.

The girls were too young to go anywhere and there was only so much his mum could do given the amount of grandchildren she had.

Dropping his hands and exhaling hard, Ron stared at himself in the mirror. He looked rougher than the proverbial, and he was certain there were newly grown flecks of grey at his temples. He was only thirty. Two years since he'd received _that_ Firecall. The one where Harry had looked sick as a dog and broken down in tears. Ron could remember how they had glowed in the green flames of the Floo.

He'd never really been able to look Harry in the face since. They saw each other often, of course, and their children were both cousins and friends. But it hadn't really been the _same_ since. Ron made himself blink fast as moisture gathered in his eyes.

_They might as well have both snuffed it._

Harry had contacted him even less after the day he'd signed the marriage contract in the Ministry. Ron understood that, because he didn't want to talk to himself, either.

Marrying Draco Malfoy had been the result of a desperate few months. The money had long been running out and he was struggling to get from day to day because of his depression. When the proposition was broached his first instinct had been to laugh and toss the blond out of his home.

“And here I am,” he muttered bitterly to himself, looking about the fine room that Draco had allocated to him in a quiet corner of the Manor.

They all occupied rooms there and largely had a great deal of privacy and time to themselves. Draco chose to dine with them often and of late had started to play with the girls when they asked him to.

Ron was too tired to stop the continual flow of presents and pretty dresses that Draco showered them with. Ron couldn't afford them and it made the three of them smile, so he let it carry on and allowed his failure as a breadwinner to eat him alive from the inside out. On marrying Draco he'd married wealth, but apart from food and essentials for their everyday lives, Ron hadn't touched a penny of it and didn't plan on doing so.

There was a soft knock on the door. Ron stiffened on hearing it. Another knock, slightly firmer. “Ron?”

Ron watched his own face crumple in the mirror, and he silently shook his head.

_Not tonight. Please, not tonight._

“Come in,” he called, against his better judgement.

Draco appeared in the doorway. “May I?” He gestured to the room.  
“I said come in, didn't I?” Ron shrugged and turned away, crossing to the window to pull the curtains.

A horrible January night was battering the window. 

“Lovely weather,” Draco commented dryly.  
“Mm.” Ron sat down on the sofa near to the fire. It was old but immaculate – far fancier than anything he'd owned before.  
“I thought we might... do you mind if I?” Draco's hand was lifted towards the drinks trolley that he'd insisted on installing in Ron's room.

Ron had tried to act as if it was completely unwelcome at the time, but he wasn't sure if he'd successfully hidden how grateful he was to have access to unlimited Firewhiskey. As it was he shrugged and gave Draco a nod as he leant back and settled himself.

A few moments later Draco nudged a glass into his fingers and primly sat down on the antique sofa next to him.

They sipped together in unison. Ron let his eyes close for a moment and couldn't help wishing he was anywhere but the same room with Draco Malfoy.

The blond had been nothing but pleasant since the day he'd approached Ron with the idiotic idea that a Malfoy-Weasley marriage would benefit them both. Ron felt like he was being tested; he felt as though the first time he lost his temper Draco would unleash years' worth of hate upon him.

Ron was being careful because, truth be told, he didn't think he was strong enough to stand it. Draco had always known how to push his buttons with family insults or sneering at his red hair, his intelligence, his wife. When they were younger it had enraged him but he'd fire and fight within him to retaliate.

He thought ruefully as he took another sip of Firewhiskey that he'd likely just shatter now if Draco turned on the malice.

“We need to talk,” Draco said, his voice stiffer than usual.

His relaxed and polite manner had been a shock. Ron remembered wondering who'd removed the poker from his backside. So to hear him talk curtly was another shock, one which set Ron's teeth on edge.

“I received further communication from the executor of the Estate today. Completely out of the blue.”  
“I thought that was all done and dusted?” Ron frowned.  
“So did I,” Draco said softly, and looked down at his feet. “It seems not.”  
“Well what's left to do? A blood pact?” Unable to keep from rolling his eyes, Ron shook his head.  
“Well. It's...”

The blond seemed to lose his nerve then and took a deep gulp from his glass. When he had swallowed and wiped his mouth, he put his hand inside the dark jacket he was wearing and tugged out some folded parchment.

“Just read it. I thought I had it in me to tell you but, look at that, I'm still a coward.” Draco laughed bitterly at himself and thrust over the parchment.

Ron stared at it apprehensively. If it had Draco riled it stood more than a chance of doing it to him, too.

“Take it,” Draco insisted, and when Ron wouldn't, he dropped it into his lap.

Balancing his drink on the arm of the chair, Ron unfolded the parchment and lifted it to the light. He needed his glasses.

_Dear Mr and Mr Malfoy,_

_It has been brought to our attention that your marriage dated 4 June 2016 remains unconsummated. A clause requiring this in the Estate's papers only made itself known once you passed the six month mark of marriage without sealing the bond by carnal union._

_Please rectify this as soon as practicable. Otherwise you will not be eligible for a full inheritance which you married to obtain._

_Our apologies for not bringing this to your attention at the time of the marriage – old magical houses come with ever-surprising conditions, not all of which are apparent at the beginning of the process._

_Yours,_  
Cricket, Jones  & Peller  
Master Executors of Magical Estates and Lands. 

Ron read it through three times, trying to make the words sink in. When he finally made himself look up at a very anxious Malfoy sitting next to him, all he could think of to say was-

“The fuck?!”  
“I know,” Draco promised.  
“We looked. When we did it, we looked. We combed over the fucking thing so that nothing like this would... oh... Godric.”

He found himself on his feet. He grabbed his glass and began to pace up and down in front of the fire, his mind full of protests and anger.

“I'm sorry that the thought of sharing a bed with me is so abhorrent to you,” Draco said tightly.  
“Oh, like it isn't for you with me!” Ron scoffed. He paused to chuck some more Firewhiskey down his throat.

When the glass was empty he stomped to the drinks trolley and slammed it down, but instead of re-filling it he simply picked up the expensive crystal decanter the rest was sitting in. He put the wide neck to his lips and purposefully filled his mouth with the spirit.

It burned all the way down his gullet. He still needed more. 

Draco simply sat there and watched him slugging it back until Ron came to a natural finish himself, by which time he was gasping at the fire in his mouth.

“Better?” Draco asked.  
“Nope,” Ron said resolutely.

He sat back down and rested the decanter on his thigh.

“It...” Draco turned to him slightly, looking sad. “It isn't like that for me, Ron.”  
“Isn't like what?” Ron pulled a face.  
“The thought of sharing a bed with you. It isn't... abhorrent. To me. ” He whispered the last part and his grey eyes dipped shyly down into his lap.

Ron wasn't quite sure what he was hearing.

“But... this... we said it was just a business deal. You get your inheritance, I get a roof over my head and somewhere to raise my girls. We sleep in separate parts of the ruddy building!”  
“I know we do, and of course, if that's how you want to continue we can. But I... I didn't ask for this, but for me... it's a reason to admit something to you that I perhaps should have admitted at the start.”  
“And what's that?” Ron asked.

Draco sucked in a big breath. It was unusual to see him so shaken by his nerves. 

“I needed a pureblood and you were there. You agreed when several women didn't. It was merely a business transaction, something which could get us both things we needed.”  
“You didn't _need_ this mansion, you wanted it. I _needed_ a roof without holes in it and food for my daughters.”

“And you really think any of your family would have let you all starve?” Draco's eyebrows were raised and his eyes took on a little of the coldness Ron remembered. “Absolutely not. But you were too proud to ask them. So don't imply that I'm shallow and mercenary when you think you're too good to rely on anybody else.”

It stung. Ron wished it didn't, but it did and there was no denying that. He'd refused to go to his parents or any of his siblings for help. He didn't deserve their help but most of all he couldn't bear how much of a failure it would have made him feel to go cap in hand to the people who raised him.

“And without this house, where would I have gone? The money, too, would have been a necessity eventually, once my bank account was as bare as yours was before you signed your name on that paper.”  
“Apart from making us both feel like shit and come off as terrible people, what are you trying to say here, Draco?”

The blond wizard took a delicate sip of Firewhiskey and closed his eyes. “I instigated this because I was hoping we could have more. That we could be... together. Sexually. Romantically. However you want to shape it.”

Ron sat with his mouth open, completely aghast.

“You don't even _like_ me, Draco.”  
“You see what you want to see and nothing more. Perhaps if you cleared the dung out of your eyes and actually looked, you'd see what I'm trying to tell you, and what's been the case since we were fucking fifteen years old!”

His composure was dangerously close to cracking, Ron could tell. There was a slight flush in his cheeks and his free hand was clenched into a fist.

“You've been nothing but shitty to me since the day we met,” Ron said thickly. “Apart from... well, since June, you've actually been quite nice but... I don't understand. All those things you said to me when we were at school, and since? How do you get from that to wanting to fuck me?!”

Draco's cheeks deepened in colour when he heard that. “Oh, Godric, yes - I want to fuck you,” he breathed, closing his eyes again.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Ron murmured.

Muggle swearing was a leftover from Hermione, who was prone to use it after any length of time spent with her parents or friends from primary school. He'd picked up a few.

“I just... at school. You were everything I wasn't allowed to be. Openly joyful. Childish. Loyal to someone other than your family, but still loyal to them at the same time and _they supported you in that_. You loped around that school like your long fucking legs were born to the corridors, looking delicious in those hand-me-downs you clearly hated but wore anyway. All I could do was be vile to you, because you had everything I didn't. And I wanted you. So I was even more vile. That logic only makes sense when you're fifteen and your hormones are up to your ears.”

Draco finished his drink. Ron felt like someone had kicked him in the gut.

“Why am I only just finding this out now?” he asked finally. “You should have been honest what you were hoping this would turn into!”  
“I didn't dream there'd be a fucking line written into the deeds, though!” Draco cried. “Why would I? It just said 'marry a pureblood'. I married a fucking pureblood! That I secretly fancied him was just an added bonus!”

It was his turn to get to his feet and stride up and down on the rug in front of the fire. Ron watched him as he moved back and forth, still gripping his empty glass.

Suddenly, Draco just stopped dead in the middle of the rug, blocking the fire completely. Ron looked up at him.

“Is there a chance?” he asked, his voice tight. “I need to know if there's a chance you'll consider... what we need to do. And more.”  
“Well. If we don't...”  
“Then presumably we'll lose the house.”  
“I didn't uproot the girls just to lose it all again a few months later,” Ron said. He traced his forefinger round the rim of the decanter's neck. “I can't do it again. They'll bounce back but I'm not sure I will.”

Draco nodded. “And do you know how much it kills me to watch you float around here like some kind of shell, hollow inside?!”  
“Er...”  
“You're a shadow of yourself. A shadow of the boy I fell in love with.”  
“Steady on, Draco. Love?” Ron found it very hard to believe what was being said.

_Because I'm completely un-fucking-lovable._

“It's been a long time and I've never been able to shake you. I've tried, believe me. A nameless, faceless many have been in and out of my bed but all it ever took was one glimpse of you at the Ministry, or your face in the paper, and I'd be back to square one: that stupid, cruel, prick picking on you for whatever I could find to pick on.”

He shrugged then and held his hands up.

“No. Don't. This is stupid. Forget I said anything. I'll go to their office tomorrow and tell them that this is bullshit. That's the best thing to do, there has to be some way around it. Night.”

He dumped his glass on a side table and made for the door.

Ron didn't pretend to understand the tangle of emotions which filled his chest and twisted his guts, but he knew he shouldn't let Draco leave. That things between them would deteriorate further if he allowed their interaction to end in that way.

“No, don't.” He shot to his feet and hurried over.

Draco had pulled the door open, but being taller, Ron reached out and pressed his palm flat to the wood and pushed it gently shut. That left him behind Draco, standing extremely close. 

Only being that close gave it away that Draco was actually trembling. Ron couldn't remember the last time he'd made someone shake with his presence alone. Perhaps he never had.

“You're not even gay,” Draco whispered miserably. “By Salazar I watched you so closely, looking for any shred of homosexuality in your manner, your walk, the way you spoke. And there was never anything.”  
“I'm not gay,” Ron confirmed. “I was very happily married. Satisfied with... that side of things. But I've always been... how d'you put it? Curious, shall we say?”

Draco spun round so quickly that Ron had to take a little step back to avoid falling. Something had changed in his grey eyes.

“Are you still curious?” he murmured hopefully.  
“I dunno...” Ron slurred over the syllables. He'd had too much Firewhiskey in a short amount of time. “I... you...”

As ever, words were failing him when he needed them most. When words failed him, Ron only knew to express himself physically. In the past, with Draco more often than not, that had meant punching the living daylights out of him. But his body was having a very different reaction in his dimly lit sitting room. He reached out and took Draco by the back of the hand and without further ceremony let the blond _feel_ that reaction.

“Fuck.” Draco gasped. “You...”  
“Does that answer your question?” Ron asked, completely unaware of how coy he sounded and how his eyelashes dipped ever-so-slightly.

Draco leapt at him, kissing him square on the mouth and knocking him back a few steps. Strong fingers grasped at his upper arms and held him in place as the kiss progressed into a furtive tonguing. Ron had only ever tasted one other man before. It had been a quick kiss during a daft game, but enough to pique his interest. This was more.

He grunted aloud when the backs of his legs hit the sofa and he immediately folded down onto it. Draco gracefully came with him, until Ron was pressed into the seat cushions and Draco was flat on top of him.

Ron's fingers began to tingle, as if they needed a purpose – so he gave them one. He slid his hands onto Draco's waist, first under his jacket and then under the shirt he wore beneath. Draco's breath noticeably hitched when skin met skin and he paused, looking up at Ron.

“Okay?” Ron asked nervously, suddenly struck that it might all be a terrible joke.

That Draco might spit in his face and roll off him laughing.

“I just can't believe that this is happening.” Draco's words came out in a rush. “I... are you sure?”  
“No, I'm not sure but I know that this feels...” He rolled his hips a little, crushing their erections together. “So good.”  
“So good,” Draco confirmed, and ducked his head again to claim Ron's mouth.

It had been a long time since anyone had sexually stimulated him. Hermione had been just three months post-partum when she died, and they'd not been particularly active during her pregnancy with Harriet.

Three years. That at least explained the feeling that he was going to come too quickly and all of a sudden. It wasn't helped by Draco suddenly lifting up and reaching down to stroke him through his jeans. The button eased open, the zipper slid down and then hot fingers were brushing over the soft cotton of his pants. Draco rubbed there for some time, picking up speed and pressure. He watched Ron's every reaction with wide eyes, drinking in every mewl and every gasp.

“May I...?”  
“Even at this point, you still talk like that...” Ron panted.  
“Well there's always time for manners, Mr Weasley.”  
“Well finish the sentence then,” he challenged.

Draco looked at him for a beat before asking, “Please, may I stroke you, Ron? Without...” his fingers slipped past the elastic at the waist. “Anything in my way...?”

His fingers curled perfectly around Ron's girth and the redhead found himself clinging onto his orgasm with very little hope of maintaining his grip.

Draco's hand slid down the shaft and then back up. Ron bit hard into his lower lip.

“Oh yeah, baby... you like that?” Draco whispered, clearly enjoying his efforts. “How badly do you want to come?”

Nobody had ever called Ron 'baby' before in his life. He'd never wanted to hear it.

Or so he thought.

“You know you want it,” Draco purred, his voice lowering to pure, honeyed seduction. “You know you want to come for me... let me lick it... clean you up with my mouth... because I've been dreaming about your come for so long... years... I want it... I want you...”

The pad of Draco's thumb passed across the top of Ron's damp slit, parting it slightly and causing a stinging sensation to spread. He keened to the ceiling, tipping his head back in abandon.

“Fuck!” he whimpered.  
“What, this?” Draco simpered, and made the move again, but hesitated before moving on, keeping the slit spread open for just a moment. Ron choked out a sob of pleasure.

It really had been so long since he'd had his cock touched.

“More,” he heard himself beg. “More. Do it again. Oh gods, do it again, please.”

Draco complied, choosing that time to swirl his thumb in the little pearl of juice which had gathered after his last pass.

“You're delicious,” Draco whispered, looking from swollen, purple glans to Ron's twisted, sweaty face. “Just as I imagined all those times... in my bed... touching myself over you. Wishing I had you there to play with. Tied up, maybe gagged... because somehow I knew you'd be loud. You're you. Of course you're loud.”

Ron felt extremely dizzy. It might have been the booze but it was more likely to be his impending finish, which he knew was coming for him in very short order.

“I'm gonna...”  
“Yes, you are,” Draco whispered. “And when you do, I'm going to milk you, baby. I'm going to milk you through it until you're begging me to stop.”

Ron panted as Draco returned to fisting his shaft, moving so quickly their skin made a sticky, filthy sound as he acted.

That turned out to be the moment which pushed him over the edge. The noise of his cock being pumped by a man who he'd never had a single sexual thought about before, but he was definitely having them about now.

He felt his body go rigid and his hips jerking, and Draco's steady, determined hand doing just what he had promised – milking Ron through the orgasm. He felt his come landing on his exposed belly where his t-shirt had risen in the heat of the moment. He wondered if Draco had meant what he'd said about licking it up and using his mouth to clean him off.

The thought of it made him groan aloud with pleasure. His eyes, which he didn't remember closing, cracked open. Draco's expression was simply brimming with lust. Ron immediately blushed.

He held his breath as, holding his gaze the entire time, Draco shifted back and lowered his face to Ron's soggy, spent cock.

“Oh fucking hell,” Ron whimpered, as a determined tongue laved the come off his stomach and then moved on to his rapidly deflating dick. “Oh gods. Oh god. Draco. Draco... Oh...”

He was drunk and delirious – historically a terrible combination for him.

But Draco's tongue passing over the head of his cock didn't feel terrible. It felt amazing.

Eventually the blond was satisfied and looked up. Ron stared dozily back down at him.

“All right?” Draco asked softly.

Ron couldn't answer so he simply nodded.

“I'm sorry if I was... if I did things you didn't want.”

Draco suddenly seemed much smaller than he was. He looked vulnerable. He was waiting, terrified, for the brush off. The accusations.

“Come here?” Ron asked, motioning for the blond to crawl back up over him. “Please, Draco. Come to me.”

Warily Draco did as requested and Ron wasted no time in wrapping his arms around the wizard's waist and lifting his chin for a kiss.

As they shared one, it occurred to him that he was tasting his own semen in Draco's mouth.

_And that's insanely hot._

“I think we'll have to do more than that to fool the deeds,” Draco said dully. “I think it'll take actual penetration...”  
“Okay.”  
“And of course, you might not be ready for that and that's perfectly okay-”  
“Draco, I said it's okay.”  
“And if you change your mind... it's okay. I'm ready for it.”  
“Will you just bloody listen to me, you idiot?” Ron snapped finally. “I'm telling you... it's okay. If that's what we need to do, then we'll do it. I'll do it. Willingly. With you.”

Draco simply stared him for a moment and then said, “Don't joke. After that, please, don't joke, Ron.”  
“I'm not. I'm completely serious. If you need to fuck me, then you fuck me.”  
“Do you want to be fucked?” Draco asked pointedly. “Do you want it?”

Something in Ron's chest eased when he replied. “I want it. And if it's too much... then I'll tell you, and we can stop, and then we'll try again.”  
“Not tonight,” Draco ruled cautiously. “You've had a lot to drink.”  
“I never knew you were such a gentleman, Mr Malfoy,” Ron teased. “Protecting my virtue, so.”

That at least cracked through Draco's veneer and he laughed. They chuckled together, their faces close, and Draco softly kissed his lips.

“I had no idea this was coming,” Ron said. “I had no idea that you felt this way. But... I'm glad that you do, Draco.”  
“Why?”  
“Because life's a lot less trying when you have someone by your side. Ask me how I know...” He swallowed on a thick throat. “And if this... went somewhere... then maybe I won't be as alone as I've dreaded.”

Draco nodded and just stared at him for a moment, before reaching up and brushing Ron's sweaty fringe out of his eyes.

“Daddy?”

They both leapt out of their skin. Ron looked sideways to find Harriet in front of them both with wide eyes and a toy in her hand.

“Daddy, what you do?” she asked, her little mouth breaking into an inquisitive smile.  
“Um. I'm... cuddling.”  
“With Wacko?”  
“Draco,” Ron corrected automatically, without thinking.  
“Can I?” she asked, and took a step closer.

Ron opened his mouth to protest but Draco was up off him in a second, and oh-so-casually managed to tug a throw from the back of the sofa over the mess he'd made of Ron's belly. He grabbed Harriet under the arms and picked her up.

“Why aren't you asleep?” he asked, taking her weight on his hip.  
“Bad dream. I want mummy.”

Pain spliced through Ron's chest on hearing that. Harriet had been too young to remember Hermione, but the twins did, and she'd heard them say that they wanted their mum enough times to start repeating it.”

“How about we go to the kitchen and see if we can't find something hot and sweet to get us off to sleep, eh?” Draco suggested, smoothly navigating away from the pain Ron was experiencing as he lay sullied on the sofa. “And your Daddy can join us when he's had a shower and got changed?”

Ron exhaled with relief when his two-year-old nodded and Draco turned for the door. “My kitchen or yours?” he asked over his shoulder.

Staring up at him, Ron was finding it hard to speak. Emotion was coursing through him again, hurting his chest and threatening him with misery.

“Mine,” he choked out.

Draco nodded and left.

***

“I was wondering...”

Ron rolled his head to the right, looking towards where Draco was huddled on his side.

They were sharing Ron's bed. It was three in the morning and they'd finally got Harriet back to sleep at midnight. They'd been shattered by then and, against everything in his mind telling him he was mad, Ron had silently taken the blond wizard's hand and led him to his bed.

They'd not done anything but talk, but sharing the mattress, sheets and duvet with the man felt indescribably special.

“What?” he asked softly.  
“Well. I don't want to rush things. Rush you. What if I make contact and just say we need a little time?”  
“Wow. From hand job to the brush off in about five hours. I think that's the fastest I've ever been dumped,” Ron retorted, before he could stop himself.

Draco's eyes widened. “I'm not-”  
“I'm joking.” Ron laughed. “Sorry. I...”  
“Don't. It's... a pleasure to hear you laugh, Ron. I haven't heard it much since you moved in. It's just like I remember, though.”

Ron was embarrassed to find himself blushing.

“Awh, you're pretty when you blush,” Draco teased. “And when you're not looking like you might murder me.”  
“You said a lot of murder-worthy things,” Ron pointed out.  
“And I still might.” Draco suddenly looked nervous again. “I know I can be unpleasant. And I can't promise that in my worst moments I won't open my mouth before I think.”  
“Hi, pot. This is kettle. He's the king of not thinking before he speaks.”

Draco laughed at that.

“I don't think anyone will see this coming,” Ron said. “Least of all me. But... let's see where we go. We're married. We might as well make the most of it if we can. And if they say we have time then... that's good. Time to experiment more for me, and we can learn to trust one another.”

Nodding, Draco reached out and gently pressed his forefinger to Ron's lips.

“You've wanted this for a long time, haven't you?” Ron whispered against it. Draco didn't bother to answer. “Shit. I hope I don't fuck this up. I always fuck everything up.”

He let out a groan and looked up at the ceiling.

“What, exactly, have you fucked up?” Draco asked, scooting closer.  
“My life. I feel like I'm fucking up the girls' lives because I can't be both father and mother to them... they miss her and sweet Godric I miss her too. Most days I feel like there's this massive boulder crushing my chest. And outside of the girls, what have I got? No job, that's long gone. No money of my own. I don't even own my own house.”

Draco said nothing, perhaps sensing that his immediate response of 'you have money, you have a house' would not be a clever idea.

“And she died.” Ron heard his voice growing smaller and quieter. “I should've ... I should have been there. I should have saved her. Taken the hit. Anything.”  
“And then those girls would be without their dad.”  
“They'd have her. That's better.”  
“Ron... they adore you. You know that.”  
“I'm not good enough,” Ron insisted.  
“I won't have this, you know. I don't have time for people who wallow in pity.”

Ron swallowed. “Then this won't work.”  
“Or maybe you'll just absorb some self-worth with my boot up your backside.”  
“You think you're the first to try that?” Ron shook his head.  
“No. But I'll be the first to succeed.”

Draco appeared in his line of sight, looking down at him with a cocky smirk. It was one Ron remembered.

“You seem pretty confident of that,” Ron muttered.  
“Mmmhmm,” Draco hummed, before kissing him.

_-fin-_

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of an ongoing fest. You can comment here or on [LIVEJOURNAL](http://ron-draco-fest.livejournal.com/27640.html) for the author to see.


End file.
